


The martinet and the spider marionette

by Webtrinsic



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of italics, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Deception, Emotional Manipulation, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Peter Parker, Illusions, Im horrible and hurt, Mind Manipulation, Minor Character Death, Not a real happy ending, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Spoilers, Suicide, technically murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Peter knew he couldn't win in a fight against the elementals and Quentin, but that didn't matter anymore. He'd been forgiven, and he could finally let go.(Endgame spoilers!)





	The martinet and the spider marionette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassG/gifts).



> I'm still broken, also am i the only one freaking out over how peter's stealth suit doesn't have fingers, its pissing me off

His friends were dead, the girl he liked was dead, Happy was dead. He’d tried, he’d tried so hard to save them. To be just like Tony, like everyone wanted. He couldn’t save them, and those _things_ won.

_ Quentin won. _

He’d lied, he’d promised. He...Peter didn’t even know where the man was as he sobbed on the streets of Venice. Bodies were strewn among the streets, flood waters high, the world on fire.

Peter's wide eyes burned at the sight of the murals and graffiti depicting his now dead mentor were melting or being washed away by the ever rushing waves. Blood trickled from his mouth, and _something_ pushed at his temples. Following the urge that _something_ bubbled in his chest, the teen climbed, and climbed, body shaking as he sat atop one of the many historical buildings.

So high up, the flames rising all around him made the air dark, the ground below wasn’t even visible. Backing up with trembling legs, the teen fell onto his back. Sitting up, screaming, sobbing he had failed. His friends bodies were being burned and washed away all at once. The smell of burning bodies, and waterlogged corpses were almost as pungent as the flames and the dust of crumbling buildings.

Screams settled in his eardrums, crashes, pops, guns, war, roaring monsters, everything. The world was loud as it scratched at his skull, as it drowned the noises of his own screams out. Inhaling, exhaling, _raw._   His throat was raw, his vocal cords snapping, lungs burning, struggling against the smog getting clogged in his chest and choking him. Blood flowing from his mouth, doing little to actually help the dryness in his throat and his hands shook as he tore his mask away from his face.

His neck pricking, screaming, but he knew it was coming. Knew this was the end. He’d failed. He’d let them die, he let Mysterio get away. Venice would be the final resting place of the one and only Spider-Man.  He didn’t know what would kill him first though, the building possibly crumpling beneath him. The smoke, a hit from one of those elemental monsters, or Quinten suddenly appearing and throwing him off the building himself.

Peter thought he’d care, but he didn’t. He didn’t feel anything more than guilt. Tony Stark died to save someone as worthless as him, he died in vain. Tony had gotten his life back, only for him to get himself killed not even a few months later.

“I’m sorry,” Peter called out to the world, to Tony... to Ben too. Burying his head in his hands, the boy was dead to the world around him.

“It’s okay Pete,” The spider's head shot up at that, endlessly leaking eyes, red, staring straight ahead of him. The two men were standing there, making a whimpering cry escape his throat.  To the left was Tony, and to the right was Ben. Sad, and appreciative smiles on both their faces.

“Mr. Stark? Ben?” the boy asked, disbelief and blood littering his words. With great strength, the boy shifted to his feet. Keeping his eyes wide open in case he blinked and they were gone, even though the smoke made the small action excruciatingly painful.  Ben nodded, and the boy rushed forward, the building’s structure chipping under his feet. Peter took turns in hugging both of them, tightly, ending it by looking up at his hero.

“Tony, I miss you so much,” turning to Ben, “You too,” sniffling, “I...I..couldn’t-”

“Peter, it’s not your fault,” The man of Iron assured, “It was too much for them to ask you to do this,”

“But...you-”

“I know Peter, I know you can do great things. On your own time, you deserved to grieve, to adjust. Not this...you didn’t deserve to be told you needed to grow up or you’d be benched,” The man smiled down at him sadly, cupping his cheek and wiping away tears as Peter felt his uncle's hand sweep along his back.  He needed to hear those words, but he needed more.

“I’m the reason you two died,” looking between the two, the boy didn’t even question how he was able to speak and see them now, but that didn’t matter because they were here and he was scared and they always made everything better.

“No,” they argued, each taking one of his arms as they stood on the edge but the boy couldn’t see that. Couldn’t see Mysterio behind him, in his head, beside him as both Tony and Ben.

“We died for you Pete, not because of you. And you know what? We’d do it again, the same as you would for us, and everyone else,” Ben spoke, running a hand through the sobbing vigilantes hair. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” the boy admitted, not questioning as each of the men unclipped his new web shooters, dropping them besides his feet. 

“You don’t have to,” they said in unison, and the boy despite his sorrow smiled.

“I don’t?”

“No,” Ben hummed, encouraging the boy to take his arm before the inventor did the same.

“You don’t,” Tony confirmed.

“You won’t be mad at me?” the boy had to ask, he had done this for them, this suit, Spider-Man, was for them.

“We promise,” again in unison. Gesturing with their heads to the smoke ahead. They spoke, “Let’s go Peter, you don’t have to do this anymore,”

Peter followed, feet slipping over the edge, with Mysterio’s hand reaching towards the boy’s back but never touching. Not even to truly push the boy over the edge. The boy had jumped himself, unable to catch himself with his web shooters, even when Q knew the boy didn’t really want to.

The teen’s body hit the ground with a crunch and crash of waves that quickly buried and flushed the blood away as the vigilantes body was whisked away with broken wood and crumpled buildings. 

Spider-Man lay buried throughout the streets of Venice with the people and his friends.  Likely not in one piece with all the destruction, but the boy was at peace even when he hadn’t won. 


End file.
